


Handler

by DoctorBilly



Series: Life goes on… [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Billyverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 20:54:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2482094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorBilly/pseuds/DoctorBilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit more of Billy's back story. His early days as an addict, and his first introduction to Sherlock and Lestrade.</p><p>Tags: gang rape; drugs; violence; astraphobia (fear of thunderstorms)</p><p>Set some time before <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1850431/chapters/3980371">You Are My Only</a></p><p>There is violence and rape in chapter 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New kid

"No, no please…"

The youth struggles to get away, but it's no good. He is held securely, his arms behind his back. The strong man, the enforcer holds his wrists securely in one hand. The other arm is round his neck, choking him. He kicks out, desperately, making contact.

"Little shit. Hold his feet."

The youth panics. Wriggles and twists, to no avail. The boss feels in his pockets, finds the little plastic bag.

"Thieving. You don't get the goods without paying. How are you going to pay for this?"

The arm around the youth's neck eases a little.

"I need it. You made me need it. I'll work extra…"

The boss laughs. So does the enforcer, and the other three gang members.

"You don't need to work extra. We'll take the payment now. Maybe give you a little bonus if you're good." He motions to the enforcer. "Flip him over and get his pants off him. Let's see what we've got."

The youth screams in fear.

"Please, no. No…"

The enforcer laughs as he straddles the youth's waist, knees holding tight. He eases his grip on his throat, uses the hand to get a firm grip in his hair, wrenching his head back. The youth is held firmly, knees on the ground, legs held apart by the two men who had up till then been holding his feet. The enforcer's grip on his waist holds him up, at a convenient height for the boss. The youth hears a zip being undone behind him and struggles. It doesn't help him, only grazes his knees on the concrete floor of the garage under the railway arches where the gang had taken him. His eyes widen in fear as the fifth gang member, the money man, unzips his trousers in front of him.

"I think he's a virgin, boss."

"You a virgin, thief?"

"Yes…" the youth is sobbing now.

"Good. That makes it better for me. You're definitely on a bonus tonight."

The youth howls as the boss drives into him.

"That's it. Struggle a bit. I like that."

The enforcer pulls his head up higher, and the money man grabs his chin.

"Open. No teeth, or you're dead."

The money man forces his cock down the youth's throat. He gags, thinks he is going to suffocate. He blacks out but is slapped awake again as the gang changes its configuration.

Thunder rolls outside, and lightning flashes, a sickly yellow illumination in the sooty grey building. The youth feels wetness on his thighs. He knows he is bleeding. He moans and sobs, terror giving way to agony. He can't breathe, can't feel anything but the pain in his arse and his belly, the gagging thickness filling his mouth and throat. He faints again. They wake him again.

When he blacks out for the third time, they cannot wake him. It doesn't stop them, even though the last two men find his lack of fight a little disappointing.

 

*********

 

"Come on boy. Let's get you to somewhere safe."

Blue Charlie lifts the battered and bleeding youth in his arms and carries him gently through the dark, wet streets of Kings Cross. At Euston Square, he comes across Ellie, a young homeless girl, huddling in a doorway to try to keep dry.

"Who is he, Charlie?"

"New kid. Go tell the detective I'm bringing him to him. He knows him."

Ellie runs through the storm to Montague Street. Blue Charlie follows a little more slowly.

 

*****

 

"Mycroft, I need a doctor at Montague Street, quickly."

" _What have you done now, Sherlock? You don't sound drugged…_ "

"I'm not. It's Bill."

" _Has he overdosed?_ "

"No. He's been raped."

" _Call an ambulance. I'll meet you at the hospital._ "

"No. They will call the police. Bring a doctor."

Sherlock paces while he waits for Mycroft to arrive. He swears when he hears sirens.

The ambulance crew are apologetic but firm. Sherlock is not a relative, so he cannot go in the ambulance with his young friend. Sherlock runs through the streets to University College Hospital. It is not far to Gower Street, but by the time he arrives, Mycroft is there, along with a uniformed sergeant.

"I said a doctor, Mycroft."

"He needs to be seen in clean surroundings. Your… accommodation is hardly suitable."

"And we have a police sergeant. Wonderful. I'm sure Bill will be delighted to see her."

"I have contacted Detective Inspector Greenstreet. Unfortunately, he is not sympathetic. The case will no doubt be logged as a common assault. Bill is an addict…"

"Through no fault of his own. You know he was forcibly injected and hooked. And he won't want charges pressed. He will be afraid of repercussions."

Mycroft clenches his jaw, rubs his temples.

"There will be repercussions. But not against Bill. I will take him home with me when he is discharged."

"No. And don't go in to see him."

"Why?"

"It will be better for him to stay under the radar. Better for now if he doesn't know you. Or who he is. Don't draw attention to him. But he needs a handler. My resources weren't enough to save him from this."


	2. The handler

"I have a little job for you, Sergeant Lestrade."

Detective Sergeant Gregor Lestrade is tired. It has been a long week, and DI Greenstreet has kept him busy for all of it. The last thing he needed was to be hauled off the street on his way home and brought to a swanky men's club where he feels completely out of place.

Mycroft pours Lestrade a whisky. It looks expensive. He knows Jeanie will smell it on his breath, but he decides it will be worth the row.

"Anything like the last little job you had for me?"

Mycroft had set him to watching his little brother withdrawing from his latest relapse. It hadn't been fun, even if Sherlock Holmes was nearly as fascinating a creature high as he was clean.

"Hm. How is life as an embedded operative? I have never had the opportunity to have that experience."

"Feels pretty much like being a police sergeant."

"Yes. Well, of course, that is what you are. Most of the time."

Mycroft smiles at Lestrade. It terrifies him.

"What do you want, Mr Holmes?"

"There is a young man I would like you to, let's say, keep an eye on."

"Not your brother again?"

"No. But there are certain… similarities."

"I'm really busy, Mr Holmes. DI Greenstreet likes his sergeants on the streets. If this is more babysitting…"

"Hm. I understand you are in the running for promotion."

Mycroft lets that sink in.

"If I get the DI job, I'd like to think I'd earned it through good police work. Not because I'm a part-time undercover spook whose part-time boss has given him a present."

Lestrade is an honest copper. Mycroft knows he can't buy him. It is why he uses him for his most sensitive work.

"I can assure you that I would not interfere with the selection process. I want a _good_ policeman on this job. Whatever his rank is."

"All right. So you want me to be a handler for some kid. Will he know?"

"No. It must be covert. You must be what you are. Perhaps you might be able to persuade him to act as an informant. That would give you an excuse to see him regularly."

"He's lowlife, then?"

"Yes. A friend of Sherlock's. He recently had a very bad experience, and I would not like to see it repeated."

Mycroft hands over a very thin file. Lestrade flips through it.

"Drugs. Rape. Nasty. No conviction, I see. Fucking Greenstreet."

"Mr Wiggins preferred not to name his assailants. There were five, I understand, although it seems that two of them have…disappeared."

"What's your interest in this kid, Mr Holmes?"

"Sherlock has taken somewhat of a shine to him. It may be there is more to him than we know. Sherlock's interest is not usually piqued by the mundane."

Lestrade isn't convinced. He has been on the receiving end of Sherlock's _interest_ once or twice, and had found it uncomfortable. He doesn't think of himself as anything _but_ mundane.

"All right. I'll look in on him every now and then."

"Good. The tattooed man is also keeping somewhat of a paternal eye on him."

"Blue Charlie? Right. I might bump into _him_ now and then, as well."

"Good. I will leave it in your capable hands, then."


	3. Fear of thunder

"He's in a right state, Sergeant. Won't let me near him. I don't want the trouble of arresting him, if it's not necessary. I've seen him around a bit. He's not usually any trouble."

"We need to get him off the street. He's soaked."

Lestrade approaches the bundle of rags warily. He hasn't spoken to Bill Wiggins in person for a little while, has relied on reports from Blue Charlie and others. He racks his brains to recall when it was, exactly, that he had last seen him. The kid had come to find him when Sherlock overdosed again, a couple of weeks back. " _He was high himself_ ", Lestrade recalls. The kid had saved Sherlock's life by getting attention for him quickly.

Lestrade flinches as lightning is followed rapidly by thunder. " _That's close_ ". Billy curls himself tighter into the angle where the railway arch wall meets the pavement, and whimpers.

"Is he high?"

The plain-clothes constable shrugs.

"Probably. Can't get close enough to tell."

"All right. We can't leave him here. We need to clear the area. Can't have the local lowlife cluttering up our crime scene. Is he armed? Knife?"

"No. But he knows how to use his teeth, and he's good with his feet and elbows. I couldn't restrain him on my own. We might manage with two of us."

"All right. We can't leave him out in this. Let me try talking to him."

Lestrade walks slowly to where Billy is huddled by the wall. Lightning flashes again, and Lestrade sees the young man's body shake in response. " _He's scared_ ", he thinks. The storm has been raging for hours. The remnants of a hurricane  had crossed the Atlantic, and hit the UK as a post-tropical storm.

"Bill. Billy. It's all right, mate. Let's get you out of this, shall we?"

Lestrade speaks calmly, quietly. He carefully and gently puts a hand out and touches Billy's shoulder.

"You need to get up, Billy. We need to get you indoors out of this rain. Come on, mate."

Billy doesn't move, but he doesn't lash out. Encouraged, Lestrade crouches beside him, rubs a hand across his shoulder.

"Come on, Bill. We'll get you somewhere dry. Up you come."

Lestrade eases Billy up into a sitting position, just as lightning flares again. Billy grabs at Lestrade, burrowing his face into his chest, clinging on like a child. Lestrade responds by instinct, wrapping his arms around him and stroking his hair.

"He's not high, Carter. He's terrified though."

Lestrade throws Carter his car keys.

"Take the car back to the Yard for me. I'll get this one home and have a little talk with him. Not much more we can do here today anyway, not in this rain. Tell DI Greenstreet I'll have the paperwork on his desk in the morning. Forensics won't have anything for us before then, anyway. Don't mention Mr Wiggins here to him. I'll see you in the morning."

Carter drives off. Lestrade helps a sobbing Billy to his feet and starts walking him to Camden High Street, where he knows Billy has a squat. On the way, he pulls him into a fish shop and buys cod and chips. He can feel Billy's bones through his hooded sweatshirt, thinks he probably hasn't eaten for a couple of days.

 

*********

 

"Eat"

Billy doesn't take his eyes off Lestrade as he wolfs down the battered fish and still-hot chips. Lestrade prowls around the room, taking in details. Mattress on the floor, where Billy is sitting. Blankets and a candlewick bedspread, fairly clean. Fireplace with a couple of fat candles. Primus stove. Saucepan and a couple of tin mugs. He tries the tap over the corner sink. " _Running water. Unusual._ " He pulls aside an old curtain tacked across a corner of the room. " _Toilet. Plumbed in. That's odd._ "

"Nice place you've got yourself, Billy."

Billy nods, still busy eating.

"Got any tea?"

"Chamomile. On the mantelpiece. You'll need to boil a saucepan…"

"Never mind. I'll run down to the cafe and get us some coffee. Will you be all right?"

"Yeah. As long as the storm doesn't get any worse."

Lestrade smiles.

"It's starting to die down, I think. It's wet and windy, but haven't heard any thunder for a bit. I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't go anywhere."

 

*********

 

"I got latte. Milky. Didn't know what you like."

Lestrade hands a takeaway cup to Billy, unloads a pocketful of sugar sachets onto the bed.

"This is good. I don't drink coffee much. Why are you being nice to me, Mister Lestrade?"

"Dunno, Bill. Maybe I'm a nice person. Just didn't like seeing you all terrified. Thought you might have been high."

"Can't afford it just at the moment. Been a couple of weeks."

"Try and stay off it. It'll end up killing you."

Lestrade sips from his own coffee.

"Why were you hanging around my crime scene anyway? Did you see anything?"

"No. But I know the victim. He hurt me a while ago."

Lestrade narrows his eyes. " _One of the rapists?_ " he thinks. " _Three down, two to go?_ "

"You weren't there to get even, were you, Bill? Am I going to have to arrest you?"

"No. But I wanted to see. To be sure he was really dead."


	4. Chapter 4

"I said keep an eye on him, Lestrade. Not arrest him."

"No choice, Mr Holmes. He was high as a kite, cooking crystal. Caught in the act. I was lucky to get him out at all. If that explosion had even been seconds earlier…"

"Hm. Check your evidence very carefully. And the identities of the men he was working for."

"I know how to conduct an investigation."

"I do not mean to denigrate your skills in any way. Congratulations, by the way. Your wife is pleased by your promotion?"

"Pleased with the money. Otherwise not so much. It's longer hours, if that's even possible."

"My brother's involvement will help."

"Maybe. We'll have to see. Jeanie already thinks I see too much of Sherlock."

"This case is not strong. There will be little hard evidence after the fire. I suspect there may not be enough evidence to charge Mr Wiggins with a crime on this occasion."

"Out of my hands, Mr Holmes. Two men died in that explosion. Oh. _The last two?_ "

"I have no idea what you mean, Inspector."

"Of course not."

"Hm. You seem to have found a way of keeping Sherlock relatively clean. I wonder if you might be able to do the same for Mr Wiggins? Assuming he is not convicted of a crime, of course."

"He's not a detective. He's not anything as far as I can see. Well, he's a bit of a chemist, obviously. He won't inform. I haven't got anything I can offer him."

"Try to find something."

 

*********

 

"That's good."

Lestrade has been quietly watching Billy sketching. The picture is obviously Blue Charlie, sitting on a bench a few feet away from the statue of Isaac Newton in the British Library courtyard.

Billy jumps.

"Didn't hear you, Mister Lestrade. Not fair to sneak up on a bloke like that."

"Doesn't pay to be too noisy in my line of work. How are you keeping, Billy?"

"All right. I'm clean, Mister Lestrade."

"Yeah. I can tell. Keep it up, Bill. I wouldn't want to stop having our little chats. Fancy a cuppa?"

"Yeah. Get one for Charlie? I'll take it over to him."

Lestrade buys three teas and a sandwich at the kiosk. Billy takes one of the teas over to Blue Charlie, then trots back to the other side of the courtyard, where Lestrade has commandeered a table.

"So, what are you doing here, Bill?"

Lestrade pushes the sandwich across the table. Billy smiles, and proceeds to devour it.

"Hanging around waiting for Charlie. He's going to take me to the place where he gets his ink topped up."

"Thinking of getting a tattoo?"

"No. Tattoos are expensive. But I want to see the flash. The art."

Lestrade looks carefully at the young man in front of him. There is a hint of familiarity in his features, but he can't place it, exactly. " _He could do with a haircut_ " he thinks, " _and a shave_."

"Are you all right for cash? Got enough to buy food?"

"Yeah. Shezz gave me some for doing a bit of scouting around for him."

Lestrade knows of Sherlock's homeless network. He is pleased that Sherlock is still interested in Bill Wiggins. He is surprised, pleasantly, that Billy has managed to keep himself away from the needle since being released after the meth lab explosion. Lestrade hasn't had to apply any leverage at all.

"Shezz?"

"Yeah. He doesn't really like it, but Sherlock's a bit of a mouthful, isn't it?"

Lestrade grins

 

"Yeah. All right then, Billy. I'll see you around, I expect. Remember to eat."

He gets up and strides towards Euston Road, nodding to Blue Charlie as he passes him.

He doesn't notice Billy watching him as he walks away.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set around 2009. In that year the tail end of Hurricane Bill hit the UK as an 'Atlantic post-tropical storm'. I have used that real event as the storm that triggered Billy.


End file.
